She had complained of dullness, and lo! one man was stabbed, and another held her in his arms.

They were sitting on some steps in the Uffizi Arcade. He must have carried her. He rose when she spoke, and began to dust his knees. She repeated:

“Oh, what have I done?”

“You fainted.”

“I — I am very sorry.”

“How are you now?”

“Perfectly well — absolutely well.” And she began to nod and smile.

“Then let us come home. There's no point in our stopping.”

He held out his hand to pull her up. She pretended not to see it. The cries from the fountain —